


Christmas Snow

by Pinkmanite



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AmeCan Secret Santa Exchange, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew spends his winter break with his dearly missed long-distance boyfriend.<br/><i>Written for the AmeCan Secret Santa Exchange 2014.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quietcanuk](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=quietcanuk).



> This is for quietcanuk on tumblr! Hope you like it <3  
> (read/reblog/like on tumblr [[here](http://cappucciino.tumblr.com/post/106725517552/christmas-snow-amecan)])

_“...traffic stalled up along Jane Addams until you hit the northern suburbs. It’s moving pretty slowly what with the steady snowfall. Doesn’t look like it’s going to let up soon, but the storm is definitely making its way south. Already have an accident on the Ike, right off Congress Parkway. It’s been moved to the side, however, and rush hour traffic flow is the usual. The Dan Ryan is moving as normally as usual. We’ll check back in with a more detailed weather report within the hour. Just remember to stay warm and drive safely out there. This weather report has been brought to you by…”_

Matthew flips through his six preset radio channels, annoyed that none seem to be playing any actual music. Isn’t that the main use of a car radio? Matthew begrudgingly settles on the holiday station because that’s the only station that’s not playing goddamn commercials. When Jingle Bell Rock starts blaring, Matthew knows he’s really fucked.

But Matthew muses the fact that he’s already survived seven hours of this long ass drive, so the least he can do is survive the last hour of Chicago’s familiar rush hour traffic.

After all, Alfred’s waiting on him.

Sometimes, when Matthew is feeling particularly lonely, he blames himself. It’s easy to do so, seeing as Alfred’s the one who attends school near home. Matthew’s the one who left. But who is he to turn down a fullride from the University of Toronto, even if it’s probably only because of his legacy status. It’s a good school with the program he needs and here it is, paid for in full. Alfred would probably have given him a bunch of shit if he _hadn’t_ accepted the offer.

So Matthew is always able to rationalize that things turned out the way that they should, even if it meant separating himself from the one person he knows cares for him solely because he’s Matthew.

He really doesn't deserve Alfred.

A little ping from his phone snaps Matthew out of his self-loathing. Speak of devil and he shall come.

“Accept call,” Matthew commands his car.

“Matt! Just checking on ya,” Alfred’s voice flows from the stereo and Matthew can’t help but smile, just a little. “You in Illinois yet?”

“Yep! I should be at the Skybridge in like ten minutes. Then I think I’ll take LSD up to your place. I’m meeting you at your mom’s, right?”

“Of course, it’s Mom’s annual baking party, you know that. But keep your luggage in your car. I’ve told you I’ve got my own place now, right?”

“Only about like a hundred times.”

“Haha, well yeah. It’s not too far from here. I’ll just give you directions later. I’m a better navigator than your crappy old GPS, anyway.”

“Hey, be nice,” Matthew laughed, “the car can hear you, ya know.”

“Well fuck you, Matthew’s car, we all know who’s obviously a better GPS here,” Alfred’s voice mused.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll keep my phone on me. Seeya soon, babe.”

 

* * *

 

It’s actually an hour before Matthew makes it to the Jones house because someone swerved over black ice and caused a pileup on Lake Shore Drive. It takes Matthew ten minutes alone just to get off the Drive itself. One thing Matthew doesn’t miss about home is goddamn city driving. Fucking potholes.

“How was the drive, dear,” Mrs. Jones asks just moments after Matthew hangs up his coat.

“Not bad,” Matthew manages to lie through grit teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Alfred stifle a knowing laugh.

“Fuck you,” Matthew says once Mrs. Jones excuses herself to return to her cookie making party. Alfred claps him on the back and pulls him into a hug.

“I’m glad you made it. I’ve really missed you, ya know,” Alfred admits. Matthew softens.

“I’ve missed you, too, you sap,” Matthew kisses his cheek, “Toronto hasn’t anything like an Alfred Jones.”

“And Chicago’s not the same without Matthew Williams.”

“Boys,” Mrs. Jones’ voice calls from the next room, “if you help clean up, you can lick the spoons.”

Matthew laughs but his eyes shift toward the kitchen. “Have you told them?”

Alfred shakes his head, “not yet. But it’s not that I think our relationship itself be the issue. You’ve been my best friend since kindergarten. Of course they love you. Like their own kid. I just don’t know how my parents will react to… well, _me_.” Alfred runs a hand through his hair, which Matthew knows he does when he’s anxious, so he leans in and kisses him on the lips this time.

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” Matthew murmurs, “it’s just so I know how I should act at the dinner table. I love you and I know you love me so what anyone else knows is whatever.”

“We should go over there,” Alfred nods when they pull apart, “Mom’s probably wondering what’s keeping us from licking the spoons.”

 

* * *

 

It’s almost midnight when Mrs. Jones finally lets the boys leave. There’s lots of hugging and farewells and an armful of bins filled with baked goods. At least they know that they won’t go hungry over the next week.

Alfred slides into Matthew’s passenger seat and starts the car while Matthew brushes off the layer of snow already settled on the windshield. It’s not long before Matthew hops in as well, bringing in a miniature snow drift of his own. It isn’t long before they’re plowing through the unsalted roads, coated in grimy slush.

“I should’ve just had you meet me at my place and we could’ve taken the Jeep. This little thing isn’t made for the snow,” Alfred comments. Matthew rolls his eyes.

“My Volvo is doing just fine, thanks,” he says dismissively, “do I turn right or left?”

“Right.”

Ten minutes passes very slowly as Alfred fiddles with the radio. There isn’t much playing because of the late hour. “Could you go any slower,” Alfred asks impatiently.

“Excuse you, there’s like five inches of snow. I don’t have a death wish,” he pauses, “where do I go next, again?”

“Um, left at the next light… I think.”

There’s a beat before Matthew looks at him, “you _think_?”

“No, I’m sure,” Alfred backtracks, “don’t worry, I got this.”

They reach the lakefront thirty minutes later.

That’s when Alfred admits that they’re lost.

“I can’t believe you don’t even know where you live,” Matthew pulls over into an empty parking lot and shuts off the windshield wipers. The snowflakes melt against the glass at first but quickly start to pileup.

“It’s because of the snow,” Alfred tries, “I can’t see the streets and landmarks and stuff.”

Matthew switches on the GPS and waits for it to load. The storm is going to slow the signal but it’s one in the morning and the city is sound asleep.

“Well, Al,” Matthew hums when the map loads up, “I hope you have your wallet on ya because your apartment is an hour drive away with these roads. Lucky for us, there’s a Holiday Inn three blocks from here,” Matthew winks.

Alfred snorts, “just like old times?”

Matthew’s face goes hot because he totally forgot about all those times they booked hotel rooms to have some alone time throughout their senior year of high school. He blushes harder when he realizes that Alfred still has that cocky grin plastered across his face. Goddamn it.

“You’re sleeping on the floor.”

 

* * *

 

“This place is pretty shitty,” Matthew mumbles when they kick open the door to their room. Considering it’s the holidays and also one in the morning, the couple was given one of the only rooms they had vacant. Better than trying to plow their way back to Alfred’s apartment, though.

“Come on, Mattie, we’ve been in worse.”

“That’s because you worked minimum wage at Chick Fil’ A.”

“Horrible management, man, glad I’m done with that one.”

Matthew yawns, which in turn causes Alfred to yawn as well.

“Can we sleep now? Your mom really wore me out today. I swear, if I have to talk about Toronto one more time I might actually fall over and die.”

“Ever the drama queen.”

“Naturally,” Matthew concurs. He’s studies the thermostat and wiggles one of the little levers. “Al, can you help me figure out how to turn up the heat?”

Alfred fiddles with some of the buttons but ends up scratching his head. “Who needs the damn thing anyway,” he pouts, “come under the covers with me, I’ll warm you up.”

Matthew is just about ready to smack him but instead he tackles him into the bed. “Good, because it’s fucking freezing.”

Alfred smirks and rolls so they’re flipped. He dives down, smashing their lips together. Matthew groans when Alfred forces his tongue into his mouth. Matthew threads his fingers in Alfred’s hair, ruffling it. He teases his fingers on the nape of his neck. Alfred keeps Matthew steady by holding his cheek in one hand. The other is snaking up Matthew’s shirt. Damn, Matthew really missed this.

Matthew pulls Alfred closer to deepen the kiss. When Alfred grabs at his nipples, Matthew moves to suckle at Alfred’s neck. He bites down particularly hard on Alfred’s collarbone, causing Alfred to groan. Matthew smirks against his skin.

But then Alfred rolls over to lay adjacent to Matthew, who in turn, nods, still panting.

“Good night, Al.”

 

* * *

 

A sharp knock at the door jolts Matthew awake. Glancing at the clock, he realizes that they were supposed to check out an hour ago. Oh shit. He shoves Alfred’s shoulder to wake him as he scrambles onto his feet to grab the door and apologize profusely.

Soon enough, they’re properly checked out and driving to Alfred’s apartment, courtesy of Matthew’s GPS and the newly plowed streets. Better late than never. It only takes twenty minutes in light noon traffic to get to Alfred’s building. Matthew’s impressed. It’s a pretty nice place.

“Yeah, so welcome to Alfred Jones territory,” Alfred says, holding the door open for Matthew. “Make yourself at home because well, this is your home ‘til you gotta go back to Canadia.” Matthew rolls his eyes. “Go ahead and unpack, I’m gonna do some stuff real quick.”

Matthew nods, too occupied with taking in Alfred’s place. It’s weird to see such a neat place when growing up, Matthew was always the one picking up after the Alfred, who was always messy and disorganized. But before he can bring it up, Alfred is already gone. Matthew shrugs and drags his bags into the bedroom.

Minutes later, Matthew’s bags are emptied neatly into the dresser, so he decides to explore Alfred’s apartment. His paramour’s conveniently decked with a quality flatscreen, so Matthew plops into the La-Z-Boy with the remote in hand.

He’s highly disappointed when he realizes that this shiny television only boasts about ten different channels. Classic Jones.

“Oh, I see you met Steve.”

Matthew startles because Alfred is suddenly behind him, wrapping his arms over him. He relaxes when he realizes it’s just Alfred. “Who’s Steve?”

“That beautiful screen right there, babe.”

“I can’t believe you named it when it doesn’t even show anything. Do you even have the xbox hooked up?”

“Nah, it’s still at Pop’s house. But if I do some rewiring in the back, I can hook up my laptop. By the way, I don’t have wifi here because while Angelo’s pays me better than Chick Fil’ A, I’m still piss broke. I schmooze off the neighbor’s. It’s the Turn Up one. Password is ‘turn down for what,’ like wow, could you get even easier?”

Matthew shakes his head but pats the space next to him so Alfred can join him. But Alfred refuses and excuses himself back to the kitchen, much to Matthew’s confusion. However, Matthew’s eyes light up when he sees Alfred carry in two giant mugs shaped like penguins. Matthew adds this to the list of reasons why Alfred’s the most adorable boyfriend in the world.

“And check this out,” Alfred exclaims, trading Matthew one of the penguin mugs--overflowing with hot chocolate and marshmallows--for the remote.

When Matthew sees him go fullscreen on a ten-hour yule log video, he can’t help but grin.

 

* * *

 

By the time Christmas morning rolls around, Matthew takes to Alfred’s little apartment as if it were his own home. While Alfred has gotten better at cleaning up after himself, some things never really change, so Matthew reclaims his duty of tidying up.

Matthew really missed the city. Since his arrival, Alfred had managed to pack their days full of things to do. From skating at Millenium Park to going to a Hawks game (and getting thrown out after drunkenly picking a fight with a Penguins fan) to having a picnic in Alfred’s living room, Alfred keeps them busy. He had been trying so hard to make Matthew’s visit special and memorable.

Which is why Matthew feels absolutely horrible when he realizes that he forgot to pack Alfred’s present.

Matthew knows it won’t be enough but he reasons that he can always ship Alfred’s real present to him later. So that’s how Matthew finds himself awake at seven in the morning on Christmas, pancakes warming in the stove and a bow atop his head.

“Mattie,” Alfred yawns when he stumbles out to the living room, “you up yet?”

“Hey, darlin’,” Matthew sings, “come unwrap me.”

That certainly wakes Alfred up. His eyes go wide behind his glasses and Matthew chuckles, beckoning him to come closer. Alfred blinks while he processes what’s happening.

Beat.

“Oh.”

Matthew rolls his eyes, “come on Al, you’re gonna ruin the mood,” he whines.

Sobering up, Alfred smirks. He swaggers to the little Christmas tree in the corner where Matthew is currently laying on his stomach, feet swinging in the air in rhythm. Matthew gasps in surprise when Alfred goes straight for it, cupping his face and stealing a kiss.

The pancakes don’t get eaten for another good couple of hours. But that’s alright because both Matthew and Alfred are perfectly content sacrificing pancakes for their activities.

“Merry Christmas, Alfred,” Matthew says around a bite of slightly overdone pancake, “I’m so lucky that I get to spend it with you.”

Alfred shakes his head, “no, babe, I’m the lucky one. Merry Christmas.”

 


End file.
